


This door is always open, you don't have the guts to shut me out.

by rokklagio



Series: After Hours [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokklagio/pseuds/rokklagio
Summary: Even was a habit he just couldn't quit.Set ten years later.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授翻]这扇大门永远开启，你没有胆量把我挡在外头。](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9470162) by [daisy_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisy_q/pseuds/daisy_q)



> This was originally thought as part of something bigger, but I realized that it could work also as a standalone. May update later.
> 
>  
> 
> [English is not my first language and all I know about Oslo is a 4 days trip I made 3 years ago, but I tried to be as realistic as possible]
> 
> I've made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/rokklagio/playlist/0tPVBWsH56JlwuH2iHZeUf) for this story.

  
  
  
  
“It’s such a great night tonight, don’t you think?”

It was a rhetorical question. Of course it was a great night, since Isak had planned the whole evening one week in advance. The weather had been shit for a couple of weeks, but he knew that the sky would have eventually cleared up and he could have had the perfect view from the hottest zen fusion restaurant in Oslo, there was simply no doubt about it. The place was on the tenth floor of a building in the middle of Grünerløkka, and one could see the sun setting on the bay from afar. It had definitely cost money, but dear God, was it worth it.

Isak looked over at his date. No, it wasn’t his date anymore, it was his boyfriend. For almost a year now. A proper boyfriend. He liked the sound of it, he liked the thought of introducing him to his friends as his partner, his lover, his life companion. It made everything sound clear and in order in his head.

“Yeah, I was getting tired of the rain,” the other man answered, as he arched a dark eyebrow in his direction. “How did you manage to book a table in this place, anyway?”

Isak gave out a small laugh as Gunnar looked at his surroundings, his brown hair a sweet contrast to the cream suit he was wearing that night. A tiny smile formed on his lips when he noticed the silk scarf around Isak’s neck.

“You’re wearing it! I thought you didn’t like it.”

Isak smiled back. He must have looked startled the evening he opened the gift (it was for his birthday, he remembered), and he sure did. The thing was—Isak wasn’t used to such expensive gifts. It was a black and grey, sort-of-checkered Hugo Boss silk scarf, which wasn’t really Isak’s style, but he chose to wear it that night because it made him feel appropriate to the setting. He watched as Gunnar charming eyes lighted up with delight.

“I like it,” lied Isak. “I have booked in advance and I was lucky, that’s all,” he added, changing the subject. The restaurant had a ridiculous waiting list, but Isak did everything by the book this time. Well, he always did now. It was the only way to make things work out in his life.

“The view is breath-taking. I think I’m going to take a picture right by the window. Do you think they will mind?”

Isak looked at the waiters who walked every now and then by their table, even though they were completely unaware of their presence. It was going to be a problem when they finally decided to order.

“I don’t think they will,” he answered.

Gunnar grinned at him, took his hand and dragged him close.

“Give me your phone, its camera is way better than mine.”

Isak, albeit a bit reluctantly, gave him his phone and hugged him as Gunnar took some pictures. They were acting like overly excited tourists, but they were also celebrating their first anniversary together, and Isak was going to pay a lot of money for the two of them to be there, so he didn’t mind acting like a misbehaving kid, for once.

“I’m going to post this on Instagram,” Gunnar duly informed him as he showed the pictures to Isak over their wine glasses. Isak shot several looks to one waiter, trying unsuccessfully to get noticed. He was now going through the pictures Gunnar took when someone finally came over at their table.

"Ugh. I look terrible. Put this one. Oh, hello."

A woman with ginger hair neatly gathered in a French braid walked to them. She exhibited a perfect smile, to which Isak promptly answered with one of his own. Gunnar, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the phone, barely acknowledging the woman.

“Good evening. Do you perhaps want to start with some wine?” she asked, her voice bright and loud. Isak nodded as his imaginary Tripadvisor comment started to form in his mind ( _amazing place, long wait, nice waitress_ ), but Gunnar seemed to have not noticed the woman’s presence at all.

"Huh. Your phone is ringing," he managed to say, eventually. Isak was listening to which wine their waitress thought it'd be the wisest choice to begin with, so he could only watch as Gunnar answered the call himself.

"Hello? Yes. No, it's not. Yeah he's here. Okay."

He handed Isak over the cell phone with a worried look on his face.

"Who is it?" he asked.

Gunnar simply shrugged. "I think it's the hospital. They're looking for you."

Isak sighed. He took the phone and excused himself. "I told them this was my free day," he whispered, faintly angry, as he walked towards the window to get a better signal.

"It's Valtersen. What's the matter?" he answered, doing his best to hide the annoyance from his voice.

He thought he would hear Olga's voice, imploring him to take an extra shift because they didn't have anybody to cover the night, and it wouldn't have been the first time anyway. Instead, he heard a male voice, deep and hoarse, who asked him to come over at the hospital because they couldn't find somebody else to call.

“Fine. I’m in Grünerløkka right now, I should get to Ullevål in five minutes,” he informed the man. He could see a thin line of cars crowding the road that went up north. “Maybe ten, if-”

“Sir,” the man on the phone interrupted him. “We are in Lillestrøm, not Oslo.”

It wasn’t work this time. He asked the man to hang on as he instinctively walked back to Gunnar.

"I gotta go. I'm sorry," he told him with a serious face, but Gunnar just shook his head.

“Huh… it’s okay. Is everything alright?” he knew by now what it meant to be a medical intern, being with Isak for a little over a year. A confusing, overwhelming timetable and a great load of patience.

“I think it’s my mom,” Isak explained, and he could feel his voice breaking as he spoke. “I’m really sorry.”

"It's okay. Do you want me to come?” Gunnar asked, unsure.

“No, I’m okay alone, it’s just… I was looking forward to this evening.”

Gunnar smiled. “We can still have dinner together tomorrow. Don't worry."

"Are you sure? When are you leaving for Paris?"

"Thursday. It's okay, really, we'll get to see each other afterwards. We have time. Now go.”

Isak picked his bag and dashed towards the first elevator going downstairs. The signal was a bit rough, so he couldn’t really hear to which hospital in Lillestrøm he was supposed to go. As he reached the ground floor he ran outside and asked again. His car was parked across the road, so he tried to listen as he walked through the city traffic.

“Is it my mom? Marianne Valtersen?” he asked the man before he could hang up. She was doing okay in Lillestrøm, but she wasn’t really happy about the clinic where she was staying, so both Isak and his father agreed to check up on her regularly. He was going to go there on Thursday, he only had to decide whether he was going to go after he had taken Gunnar to the airport or early in the morning.

“No,” the man started, and Isak noticed he was now calmer than he was when he called. “It’s uhm... the ID says the man is Even Bech Næsheim. Do you know him? Are you a relative?”

Isak dropped his keys on the ground.

He felt a sense of relief when he heard that it wasn’t his mother. Then Even’s name hit him hard, leaving him paralysed on his seat, suddenly unaware of where he was and what he was doing. He held onto the steering wheel as his auto stayed motionless. He took a couple of deep breaths before he was able to produce any words.

“Is… is he okay?”

*

Lillestrøm hospital’s emergency room was considerably less crowded than the one Isak was used to seeing every day of the week. Out in the waiting room there was an impressive amount of kids with whooping cough, but every now and then someone with a broken limb strolled by in a wheelchair or hopped with crutches. Isak was sitting down on a plastic chair, very close to the exit doors, temporarily lost as he watched two nurses taking some minutes off to smoke a cigarette outside, bravely fighting the strong wind that was bending the pines out in the parking lot. He would have lied if he said he didn’t feel the desire to stand on his feet and flee back to Oslo. And he could have easily done it. Three steps away and he would have been gone, for good.

“Hey.”

A deep voice startled him and brought him back to the reality of the waiting room.

He turned around, and his heart skipped a beat.

Even was walking with a nurse, but his impossibly blue eyes were already fixed on Isak. He had now longer hair than he did a few years before: its tips brushed now carelessly against his long neck and his shoulders. His features seemed more hollow than he remembered them to be, but his skin looked way more tanned and healthier than it used to look back when they were younger. He had a large hoodie on and a bag on his shoulder, and he walked as if he just freshly got out of the gym, instead of a fucking emergency room. He smiled at him, showing his sharp canines as he slightly winked.

He has never looked so handsome before.

Isak felt pure anger rush through his veins.

“Hey,” he said back. Even’s smile was suddenly so big and bright and, without Isak could realise it, he was being engulfed in the other man’s arms.

Even was found in the middle of the E6 motorway, clearly disoriented.

He wanted to hug him back just as hard, but something held Isak back. He managed to put his arms on Even’s back though, and he held him close just enough to let his pungent scent inebriate him. He closed his eyes.

His mind went years back.

He thought he could smell Even’s bedsheets there, in the emergency room of Lillestrøm’s hospital, as if he was seventeen again. He was seventeen and he was in love. Back then he knew love wasn’t forever, but he thought certain moments could last for ages. He used to think a minute could last a century, if he wanted it to.

When he started to recreate the blue bedsheets in his mind, he could also hear Even’s 19-year-old voice murmur what Isak could only remember as the beginning of their end.

_I’m thinking of going to a film school in Denmark. What do you think about it?_

As they walked out in the parking lot Isak’s mind was racing with a million questions, from a very detached and dull “ _are you okay_ ?” to “ _when did you have your last episode? Are they getting more frequent_?”, which was he would ask or hear during his internship. If Even seemed to be excited and happy when he saw Isak, he looked now completely miserable. The only thing he wanted to do was to take the other man’s hand and tell him that he was there, and he would have stayed with him as long as he needed him. It worked, it always worked, and they used to, too.

Instead, Isak took Even’s heavy bag from his hands and put it in the trunk of his car. Then they sat inside the car in complete silence. He couldn’t turn the car on.

“Where have you been all this time?” he felt himself ask, even though he had a lump in his throat and his hands were shaking at his sides. Even didn’t acknowledge his question at first: he just looked outside the car window.

“I was away,” he finally said, “you’ve got a nice car.”

He answered casually, as if he didn’t disappear one day without returning any of Isak’s calls. As if he thought Isak could take it all, because he was supposedly the strong one in the relationship.

“Where were you?” he tried again, knowing he was pushing buttons he knew he couldn’t push.

“Does it make any difference?” Even’s tone got angrier, slightly annoyed, but his eyes fell on his lap and Isak realised they couldn’t have that discussion in the hospital’s parking lot in fucking Lillestrøm. He finally started the car and moved to take the highway, hoping not to find much traffic on the way back.

“Are you staying with your parents?” Isak asked, not knowing whether Even still lived in Oslo or definitively moved elsewhere. The last time they saw each other Even was staying in London, the year before in Copenhagen.

“I’m staying at my old apartment, yeah,” he nodded, “but my parents moved in my grandparents’ house in the countryside.”

“Okay.” So he was alone.

They drove in complete silence back to the city, the only noises were those of an ambulance siren blaring from afar. Whenever Isak looked sideways he could advert Even’s eyes on him, probably trying to figure out what he was thinking. He thought their awkward silence and the years spent apart would have kept him from wishing he could just stop the car somewhere, free himself from the annoying belt and kiss him, trying to gain back the memory of Even’s soft lips against his, to go back to a time where they weren’t just two awkward grown-ups. Even wasn’t just a person, he was a whole entire dimension where Isak wasn’t a psychiatry resident but he was a lousy high-schooler again, living with Eskild, Linn and Noora; a place where his family was a lot messier than it was now. A time where the hours he spent with Even were the only thing he looked forward to. When they used to sink their fingers in each other’s hair and whisper _I love you_ until they both fell asleep.

Something wasn’t right. Something had changed. Even was usually talkative afterwards, when he was still recovering from an episode, or he would fall in catatonic state where he just couldn’t answer to anyone. But Even was there, spontaneously choosing to remain silent, and Isak wondered if his illness changed too.

He was able to find a parking spot close to Even’s building, and he was still basking in the glory and the satisfaction of his find that, as he took Even’s bag out of the trunk, he didn’t realise the other man was next to him, and he was goggling at him as if he had two heads.

“What?” Isak asked with a dull face, as if he had just gone out for groceries.

“There’s no need for you to come, really.” Even’s voice was soft, yet firm. He watched him with a serious face, a face that was basically screaming _get lost, I don’t want your pity_ because Isak knew that face well: Even had it every time he did something he was ashamed of and didn’t want anyone around to remind him of it.

Isak opened his mouth to protest, to explain that he needed to be there, because Even couldn’t be left alone after that night, but Even stepped closer and was now towering him, a dreadful look on his face and his soft lips were now reduced to a thin line.

“I’m serious, Isak. I don’t need it.”

He was seventeen again. He was all doubts and questions in his mind; all the self-confidence he struggled to gain in these years disappeared suddenly, making him smaller and more fragile, making him fear to speak his mind. Making him fear all the consequences of his actions.

“What if I wanted to?” he whispered, barely loud enough for Even to hear and look surprised by the question. Even searched his eyes, looking for what he probably thought was a lie.

He nodded. A tiny smile formed on his lips. Isak could see the faint stubble on his face through the dim light coming from the drugstore’s sign.

“Let’s go then.”

It was weird not seeing jackets and coats crowd around the doorway. He left his shoes beside the door, as he used to do every time he went home with Even. The other man simply walked in with his shoes on and remembered to take them off only when he reached the kitchen.

The kitchen, too, was empty, but Isak could see that there was some granola and a can of coffee left on the counter, indicating that Even had been living there for some time.

“So… when did you get back?” he asked as he watched Even take two beers out of the fridge. He offered him one, not waiting for Isak to point out that alcohol wasn’t good for him. It all looked so old and familiar.

“Four days ago,” Even said as he opened the bottles. “You know I didn’t have an episode tonight, right?”

No, Isak didn’t know, but now he was sure of it. He was less cheerful and more thoughtful than he used to be in the aftermath of a manic episode.

“How did you end up in the hospital then?” Isak asked, answering briefly to Even’s _skål_ and then sipping his beer.

“I was taking some shoots for this project I’m working on– I know, I have been reckless, but it was a really good place to shoot at. Some cars stopped and when I saw that the police was going to get involved, I said I needed my meds. Then they called an ambulance.”

“Nice,” Isak commented, trying to hide his smile but failing in the attempt. Even caught a glimpse of that smile, and seemed to be incredibly delighted by it. They looked at each other without speaking a word, settling back in their familiar habits.

“I’ve read that you’ve been in… uhm, India?” Isak asked, not sure whether to break their silence or not.

“Nepal, actually,” Even nodded.

“For your third movie.” Isak continued. Even’s face lighted up.

“Yes. How do you know—”

“I’ve read some articles about it,” he quickly dismissed it because they were sitting alone in Even’s kitchen, in the dark, and Isak had a boyfriend that was waiting for him back home and the only thing he wanted right in that moment was to seize the fabric of Even’s hoodie and hold him close, wrap his arms around his neck and be carefree kids again. No work, no rent, no bills, no car insurance, no flights, nothing to think of. Even’s eyes were soft on him, two blue half-moons that darted from Isak’s hair, to his nose and to his lips. There was something in Isak’s face that made Even look happy, at peace-

His phone started ringing, and his stomach twitched in distress.

Even’s eyes fell on the display, where Gunnar’s name came up, and he felt the other man’s eyes back on him when he hopped down the counter and answered the call.

“Hey.”

“ _Hi_ ,” he heard at the end of the line. “ _Is your mom okay_?”

“Yes, actually—” he wanted to tell him that his mother was more than okay, that it was someone else that needed his help. He wanted to be honest with Gunnar, because he deserved the truth. He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to lie.

“ _What_?”

Isak sighed and closed his eyes. “I—I think I’m gonna stay here, keeping an eye on her.”

“ _Yeah, you do that. Will I see you tomorrow_?”

He instinctively nodded. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. See you tomorrow.”

“ _Okay then. I love you_.”

“I love you too,” he whispered and hung up.

When he raised his eyes from the phone he caught Even looking at him, an untold worry on his face. But then he quickly moved his gaze elsewhere, biting his bottom lip as he searched for the right words to say. Isak briefly closed his eyes, not wanting to hear them.

“Just go, Isak,” the taller man muttered after a long silence. They still stood in complete darkness, facing each other, not bothering to turn up the lights because there was the moon, shining over Even’s face, and Isak didn’t need anything else.

“Forget it.” He shook his head, vehemently. _Don’t make me go_.

“You have it good now. I’m fine.” Even smiled, but he hid his hands inside the pockets, hiding his nervousness. Isak frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I have it ‘good’?” he asked, raising his voice. Isak’s life wasn’t “good”, it just kept afloat.

Even rolled his eyes, seemingly exhausted.

“You know what I mean. Every time we are together I manage to fuck it up and you hate me.”

“That’s not true,” he tried to defend himself. “It’s not about you, and it’s not why I chose to stay here.”

The taller man nodded, pensive. “You’re right. It’s my illness, right?” he rebutted, a hint of anger in his voice.

“No.”

“Yes, it’s your excuse for everything that has to do with me. You stick around because poor Even is sick in the head. Right?”

Isak looked bewildered as Even bit on his bottom lip, not managing to keep his eyes on Isak.

“It’s not.”

“Then why don’t you just admit why are you here? Why won’t you go home to your boyfriend?” he muttered with haste and bitterness. Isak launched forward and took a grip of his sleeve. He yanked it lightly to divert Even’s attention on his face, then he looked him in the eyes.

“Do you want me to?”

Even opened his mouth, but chose to remain silent. After a while, he simply shook his head, looking on the verge of tears.

_Are there no film schools here in Norway?_

_Yes, but Denmark is unique. Will you miss me if I go?_

_Of course I will. Will you write me if you go?_

_Every day._

Isak took Even’s face in his hands and caressed the light stubble on his hollow cheeks, letting his fingers navigate his face up to his hair. He missed touching it, combing back the golden locks that fell over his eyes, over his swollen lips. Even closed his eyes as he felt the fingertips ghosting over his ears: it reminded Isak of that time a 20-year-old Even got drunk on Isak’s birthday and they said things they really didn’t mean, but they did in that very moment and it got ugly, they threw things at each other, but then Even took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he went home, and they didn’t see each other for months.

He felt Even’s hands touching his sides, sliding down to his hips. They were now mere inches from one another, and his breath smelled of the beer they drank just minutes before.

He thought of Gunnar and then his mind went back to the first boyfriend he had after Even, two years after their break-up. It didn’t last long, because when Even texted him that he was back from Berlin Isak found himself barely one hour later between the other boy’s bedsheets, overdosing on kisses and screaming for more.

Isak closed the space left between them and raised himself on his toes, but Even grabbed the back of his thighs and picked him up with incredible ease, as if he weighed nothing, and left him on the kitchen counter, confused. He cancelled every question on Isak’s mind by catching the younger man’s lips in a long, wet, desperate kiss: Isak could feel Even’s fingers sink into the stretched skin of his hipbones, and he widened his legs to let him fill the space between them. He sighed at the warm contact, not realising how much he missed it, and without overthinking it he latched his arms around Even’s neck. It was a silent request for more, and when Even bit Isak’s bottom lip in a violent kiss, the younger man let out a disgraceful moan that echoed in the darkness of the kitchen.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

If Even wasn’t back he would have been drinking some expensive red wine over some oysters with Gunnar, instead of making out on the kitchen counter while the smell of cheap beer haunted their lips.

“I’ve missed you,” Isak blurted out, almost sobbing. Even caressed his abdomen under the shirt.

“Did you?” he asked. There was no malice in the question: he sounded hopeful and vulnerable. Isak nodded through their kisses.

“Every day.”


End file.
